


All the World Drops Dead

by Rian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rian/pseuds/Rian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that the war is over, Severus is just trying to get on with things. He's not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the World Drops Dead

**Author's Note:**

> First written for the Snupin Fantasy Fest in 2006, for arionrhod, who requested: _"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Post war, Severus literally takes a back road, and finds Lupin at the end, hiding from the world. Unwilling romance, happy ending."_
> 
> Due to the time it was written, it is now thoroughly and completely jossed by the canon that came after it. Original livejournal post: http://rian219.livejournal.com/226294.html

***

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
I lift my lids and all is born again._

\- Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath

 

***

Severus had no idea what he was doing here in this tiny flat with this man that he hated and who hated him back. He didn't move when Lupin gestured to one of the rickety chairs around the kitchen table, almost laughing at the absurdity of the insinuation that he would want to spend any time here. He gripped the edge of the bench at his back so hard it hurt his fingers. Across the room from him, Lupin turned toward the stove and lifted the kettle off it to fill it with water.

"Do you want tea?"

Severus' stomach twisted. "No. No…thank you. I'll not be staying," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Suit yourself," Lupin said mildly, not turning around after he put the kettle back on the stove and tapped it with his wand.

***

England had not been the place for Severus Snape after the war, pardon or no pardon; across the channel in France was not either, or in Italy, or anywhere where Albus Dumbledore was called friend. So he went further, into the Eastern Block, into countries where the countryside was harsh and inhospitable, and life was too hard for anyone to care a whit who he was or what he'd done, where his name was not synonymous with murderer and no one spat at him in the street.

In other ways it was perfect for him as well; extremes of climate always meant rare plants, elusive animals, potions ingredients that in previous times would have cost him a fortune to procure had he not been doing so in his capacity as Potions Master. Now that he had no such capacity, it was convenient for him to frequent places where with a little knowledge, a lot of cunning and a smidgeon of physical effort he could get what he wanted and not have to pay for it at all.

He used his access to these things to make money, of course; he had not been the Potions Master for nothing, and he used his skills to make difficult potions, illegal potions. Potions that were in scarce supply even on the black market, let alone in polite society, simply because there was not many alive with the skills to make them. So he used his knowledge, the power that he had, to charge exorbitant prices, which to his surprise, people paid. He conducted his business either anonymously or under a pseudonym, in order to protect himself mostly, in case of raids by the Ministry. That didn't seem to actually happen often, Ministry officials seemingly too busy ferreting out and prosecuting the last of the Dark Lord's faithful, which he wasn't necessarily upset about, given that it prevented them (the followers, that was) coming after him. At first he thought that his being anonymous or unknown would affect his business, but apparently the desperate, lazy, vindictive and far too rich of the world didn't care who they did business with, as long as they were provided with their illegal aphrodisiacs and undetectable poisons. Severus found that after a while he had built himself up quite a clientele, so much so that they actually started soliciting things for him to brew. The problems started when they began sending him ancient recipes for potions long unused, which, unfortunately for him, were often in the long unused languages in which they had been first recorded. Severus was a scholar, it was true, but a man of science, not a man of letters. At first he ignored the requests, or flat out refused to do them, but he found that just led to offers of more money and so eventually he was forced to consent. Every man had his price, after all.

But agreeing to fulfil the requests meant that he needed a translator, and a competent one at that. As much as Severus didn't give a toss whether the people he brewed potions for lived or died, it would be bad for business if they started having adverse reactions to potions he'd sold them. No matter the reason, no matter whether it was his fault or the fault of an idiot translator, he'd be blamed for it regardless, and he couldn't have that. So he started asking round his contacts, collecting names of people that were known to do good work. There was only one name that kept being mentioned again and again as someone that was an exceptional translator as well as very discreet, something else that Severus needed. The man's prices certainly suggested that what was being said of him was true, and he was a wizard, so Severus was told, although it was a name he didn't recognise. That was not really important; even if it was an alias, Severus would have been a hypocrite of the highest order if he'd not appreciated the desire to keep oneself to oneself. So he sent the fellow an owl under his own false name, telling him what language it was and what his own expectations were, and received a reply back sooner than he'd thought he would. The reply said that the translation would cost him, depending on the complexity of the piece, and that it would have to be sighted before any negotiations over price took place. A tavern in what Severus knew to be a tiny town in Romania was named as a meeting place two days from then, and Severus sent back a reply saying that he would be there.

He was there as he said he would be, apparating into a side street off the main street of the town right on time and into the most appalling weather. He grimaced and put the hood of his travelling cloak up against the wind and freezing rain, and went looking for the tavern.

He found it, but not until he was soaked to the skin; he cast a few drying and warming spells on himself just inside the door of the place as he took its measure. It was just the sort of place he'd been in countless times before, the same dimly-lit, seedy establishment that was found all over the world hosting people who lived in the world's underbelly and were up to no good. Severus wasn't surprised to feel right at home.

He kept his hood up as he walked to the bar and asked the bartender for the whereabouts of his translator. He was pointed to a corner table, the furthest away from the fire, and the darkest. Severus weaved through the crowd towards it, putting his hood down as he did, a sign of good faith. As he got closer he could see his translator had a cloak on himself, the hood still up, and a large tankard in front of him that he had his hands wrapped around. The stranger didn't move when Severus stopped in front of the table, and didn't speak until Severus had opened his mouth to do so.

"We can't do business together," he said decisively, still not moving. His hands were gripped tightly around the tankard, so tightly his knuckles were white.

Severus shut his mouth, and was silent a minute before saying, "I can pay."

"It's not about the money." The stranger stood then, so suddenly it made Severus take a step back and reach for his wand, but his defence was forgotten once the stranger pushed his hood back. "It's not about the money at all."

Severus gaped for a minute before pulling himself together. "Lupin, what…"

"I'm not talking about this here." Lupin moved abruptly, stepping out from behind the table, pushing past Severus and then through the crowd towards the door. Severus could hear him excusing himself as he made his way out in a language that was not English; Romanian, presumably. After a minute of boggling, he followed, simply because he couldn't think of anything else to do.

Outside, Lupin rounded on him, but before he could get hold of his wand the werewolf had hold of his arm and they were apparating to Merlin only knew where. When his feet hit solid ground again he drew, only to come face to face with Lupin's wand across Lupin's kitchen table, as Lupin was facing his own. Severus could not remember Lupin having ever looked quite so angry.

"Don't you draw your wand on me in my own house. Stand down now, or I will not hold back," he snapped.

Severus was surprised that Lupin had brought him into his house, but that didn't stop him from wanting to curse him right there and then. There was such a thing as the moral high ground, however, and for once he was taking it. "I will not lower unless you lower your own. I will not leave myself defenceless."

Lupin didn't move for a minute, but then he nodded, slowly lowering his own wand while watching Severus do the same.

"Why are you here?" he said, surprisingly calmly, given the anger in his eyes.

"You know why I'm here."

Lupin shook his head, snorting softly in disbelief.

Severus glared at him. "Look, if this is about Dumb…"

He didn't get to finish, because Lupin's fist slammed down on the table hard, the noise of it making Severus jump.

"Don't you say his name to me. Don't you dare say his name to me ever."

Severus wanted to curse him again. "I am not the only one in this room with blood on my hands, you insufferable hypocrite," he hissed.

Lupin blanched at that. "That is hardly the same thing."

"Well, I think the family of Bellatrix Black might beg to differ on that point," Severus said haughtily, glad to be back on stable and familiar ground. "If any of them were alive, that is, and discounting any – what should we call him? Black _sheep_ of the family? Or something else?"

Lupin was shaking his head again, his eyes downcast this time. "Get out."

Severus didn't need to be told twice; he took his money and his translations and apparated out without another word.

***

In the cold light of day the next morning, of course, he realised that perhaps he'd been a tad hasty. The client who wanted the potion from the translation really was offering a great deal of money for it, and Lupin (as much as Severus hated to admit it, given his rocky past with Lupin, not to mention how completely deranged the man obviously was, judging from his behaviour of the previous night), was unfortunately the only man for the job. So Severus swallowed his pride and apparated to Romania and back to the tavern, asking after the translator using the name Lupin had originally given him. Half an hour later he was at Lupin's door, knocking smartly on it and standing confidently while he waited for Lupin to come to the door.

When he did, Severus didn't give him the chance to say anything, shoving the parchments and a pouch of money at him and saying, "Some money now, and the rest when it's done. I'll be back in two days. You know how to reach me if you need more time." And with that he turned on his heel and was gone, apparating away before Lupin had time to shut the door.

***

One of the hardest things Severus had done was wait for those two days to be over. He didn't hear from Lupin, so he was forced to assume that was because he didn't need more than two days to complete the job, not because he wasn't working on it at all. When the two days were up and he went back to Lupin's village, the last thing he expected was to be in Lupin's kitchen again, being offered tea, no less. He gripped the bench at his back until his fingers hurt and said he wouldn't stay, and Lupin didn't turn around to face him as he tapped the kettle with his wand to heat the water. Lupin's movements were stiff, Severus noticed, and he limped slightly when he walked. Peeking out of the neck of the jumper he wore was a bandage, slightly bloody in parts, as if a sudden movement had torn open healing wounds. Severus wondered about this for a few seconds, until he realised with a shock that it had been a full moon two nights before.

Still, he didn't stay—he'd said he wouldn't. Lupin still hadn't turned around when Severus collected his translated potions instructions off Lupin's kitchen table, leaving a pouch of money in its place.

"If that is not enough, tell me and I'll see to it you receive the balance," he said quietly. Lupin didn't answer, so he stepped toward the front door. Once there, he stopped.

"You don't take Wolfsbane at the moon anymore?"

Lupin was so long in answering that Severus thought he hadn't heard. Just when he was about to give up waiting for an answer and leave, he heard a quiet sigh, and Lupin said, "No. Not anymore."

Severus didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything, leaving Lupin's house and closing the door behind him before apparating home with a crack.

***

Lupin's translation was exceptional, and the potion a roaring success; his delighted client then proceeded to inundate him with more requests for the same and more, his friends joining in on the illicit fun. So it was that Severus found himself with more and more things to translate, and he had no choice but to bolster Lupin's business if he wanted to ensure the continued success of his own .

Lupin accepted his business, and Severus didn't bother to ask why; no doubt it was the same reason that he was commissioning Lupin's services: survival instinct. Severus had little doubt that it was equally as strong in both of them, all things considered, but it wasn't something he wanted to talk about.

He considered, as time went on that month, brewing up some Wolfsbane for Lupin as a kind of peace offering, and made a mental note to remember the full moon. It was only when he received a note from Lupin a week or so later requesting extra time to finish a job due to illness that he realised he'd forgotten again. After that he made more than a mental note, and the next month sent Lupin enough doses of Wolfsbane to see him through. He half expected to see it sent back to him unopened, something he was convinced the stubborn and idiotic man would do simply to spite him, but he never did. He found himself doing the same the next month, and the next month, and all the months after that, and never once did he see it returned.

Lupin never mentioned it, so neither did Severus, but subtly, things between them began to change. The hostility he felt from Lupin lessened ever so slightly, and he found himself invited for tea, or sometimes dinner. Lupin sometimes discussed his work with him, the translations he was doing for Severus, mostly. Severus shared information in his turn, sometimes about new developments in potion making, but mostly on the potions that Lupin was translating for him. That was common ground, and it gave them both context, as well as someone to talk to, which Severus suspected was good for them both.

***

After that very first night, they never talked of Dumbledore again. Lupin never asked why he'd done what he'd done, and he never offered an explanation. His pardon by the Ministry had been common knowledge, but he'd asked that the reasons for it be suppressed. He didn't have to justify himself to anyone. In war, one did what one had to do to survive, to reach the desired outcome, no matter what the means. In his weaker moments, he fancied that if anyone would know about ends justifying means, it was the werewolf, although casting an eye about Lupin's house, watching him reuse teabags or walk across the floor in socks that were more hole than actual sock made Severus think that there were some means that there was no justification for.

"Why on Earth do you _insist_ on doing this?" he'd asked one day when around at Lupin's to retrieve another translation.

"Doing what?" Lupin looked at him, eyebrows raised as he came out of the kitchen and set Severus' tea down in front of him.

"This." Severus waved a hand in the direction of Lupin's shabby person and then widened the gesture to take in the whole room. "Your… _frugal existence_. If one can even call it that."

Lupin smiled wryly. "Severus, you know that I have trouble finding work, I always have…"

Severus snorted. "Don't take me for an idiot Lupin, you know I know how much you charge, there's a bag full of my Galleons on your dining table to prove it!"

Lupin coloured a little at that. "Yes, but the work isn't as regular as it might seem. Not everyone has a yen for ancient Egyptian aphrodisiac potions, you know."

Now it was Severus' turn to blush. "It is not for me."

"Ah, yes. That's what they all say." Lupin was smirking now, his eyes alight with the mischievous look that Severus had so hated in him and his accursed friends when they were younger. There must have been something in his own gaze that showed that, because when Lupin's eyes met his own, the mischievous look died down a little, and his voice was softer when he said,

"I just meant that it doesn't hurt to plan a little for the future, now that it looks like we all might have one. You of all people should know how quickly fortunes can change. We're alike in that way a little, I think."

Lupin was still looking him in the face. Severus could feel himself blushing again, and he shifted in his seat and looked away, down at his hands which were twisting in the front of his robes.

"Well, I…yes. Perhaps a little," he said quietly, reaching for his tea and not looking up.

***

The full moon after that conversation came, and Lupin was too ill to get out of bed, even despite the Wolfsbane, and sent Severus a note requesting an extension. So it was that Severus brewed him some healing potions and took them over to Lupin's house, insisting on being let in and insisting that the werewolf take them. Placing a cup of tea on Lupin's bedside table as he dozed, Severus saw some pictures there, Wizarding pictures, on top of an open letter next to Lupin's reading lamp. They were of a child's birthday party, that much was clear from a glance at them, but on closer inspection he saw with a shock that they were pictures of Harry Potter, and what was apparently his family - his children, his wife. In one he saw Nymphadora Tonks, wedding band glinting on the ring finger of the hand she had resting on her gently swelling belly as she watched the Potter children play and held the hand of a wizard that he didn't recognise. Made clumsy by his surprise, Severus stepped back, knocking a stack of books by the bedside table over with a bang. Lupin awoke with a start and lifted his head up, his bleary eyes following Severus' where they were trained on the photographs; he made a soft, indistinct noise and reached for them, but then obviously thought better of it for whatever reason. He pulled his hand back, putting his head back on the pillow with a sigh. Severus stared at him, but Lupin didn't look at him.

"Why are you here, Lupin?" he asked softly.

Lupin didn't answer for some time, so long that Severus thought that he must have fallen back to sleep. When he did speak it was in the barest of whispers, hoarse with the stress of transformation.

"Because we're the only two left."

It wasn't what he'd asked, but in a strange way it was exactly the answer he'd been looking for.

***

After that he didn't need a note to turn up at Lupin's with his healing potions. He forced the liquids down the werewolf's throat and made him tea afterwards, sometimes even reading to him until he fell asleep, whereupon he'd put the book down, making sure that Lupin was still asleep before pulling the blankets up around his chin and leaving the potions on the bedside table with strict instructions on how to take them. On odd occasions he even cooked Lupin up meals and left them for him, hearty things meant to build up strength and restore things lost to the ravages of the moon. He didn't know why he did these things, only that he did, and that it soothed him. As ever, they never spoke of them, and that suited him fine.

One month, though, there were new photographs back on Lupin's bedside table. Lupin didn't mention them, and Severus didn't look. He gave Lupin his potions and read him to sleep, as usual, but after tucking him in couldn't resist a peek. He'd expected them to be of the Potter children again, but this time they weren't. They were of Nymphadora Tonks and her husband and baby, smiling and waving at the camera, holding the child's arm up to do the same. Severus looked at them for a long while before straightening up with a sigh, but before he could take a step back he was restrained by a hand on his wrist that made him almost jump out of his skin. He glared down at a very awake Lupin.

"You are supposed to be asleep."

Lupin didn't answer him. "Why are you here, Severus?"

Severus didn't know how to answer that, and so he was quiet a long time. Lupin kept hold of his wrist all the while, and he didn't try to get away. Eventually he cleared his throat and tried to form an answer.

"Because, Remus. We're the only two left." He paused, and then said hurriedly, "And clearly you need someone to look after you, being incapable of doing it yourself."

Lupin chuckled and tightened his hold, pulling Severus towards him and onto the bed. "You just called me Remus," he said hoarsely, still smiling as he caught the back of Severus' head with a hand and drew their faces together, whispering against Severus' lips just before he closed the space between them, "And I do not, you insufferable git."


End file.
